The One That Got Away
by MP PrussianMia
Summary: In another life, I would make you stay. So I don't have to say you were the one that got away. Warnings: Angst, minor language, it's Lovino, of course he has a potty mouth . Enjoy


**Thought I should give you all something for the New Year.**

**I don't own Hetalia, it's characters, or "The One That Got Away" by Katy Perry. It adds effect if you listen to the song as you read.**

**Writing style:**

Normal

X to X - Flashback/timeskip

_Flashback_

_**Thoughts**_

" " Talking

* * *

><p><strong>Lovi's POV<strong>

**X**

"_I'm so sorry..."_

"_...Really?"_

"_I am...but I can't do this anymore."_

**X**

I couldn't believe it. No, most defiantly couldn't believe it. Things were never supposed to happen this way. Not like this. Things were never supposed to **end** and if they did, **never like this.** Maybe if I had been just a little more caring, just a little more aware, just...**there. **Perhaps if I didn't always shout at him, or belittle him, or push him away. Why couldn't I just convince myself that someone _**might **_just actually **love **_**me?**_

Me, who was pushy, bratty, spoiled until adulthood and then some, highly bipolar, and bitchy on his period (or maybe all the time). Me, was so imperfect and scarred and _**broken**_. Me who didn't know how to love.

_He_ always loved me. From the very start of everything. From the nervous kisses and anxious smiles of that first date, those gentle, questioning touches from the first time...that happiness from waking up and not feeling so alone.

**X**

"_Why...?"_

"_I've tried so hard...but I can't fight for us when you're the one I'm fighting against."_

**X**

The first shock is always the worst, he guessed. That horrible pit of dread and despair of coming home and all the lights are off. The bile that rose in my throat when realized how cold and **empty** his..._their_ room was. Everything was the same on the outside but inside...something had broken. The bed was made as it always. Maybe, if I hadn't stared so hard I would've missed it. _Maybe. _The small letter set on _his_ pillow. That stupid _fucking_ letter written in small, looping handwriting that had to be _his._ There's no one else who would write such ugly, uneven, sloppy...**beautiful** letters.

My green eyes skimmed it over, it would seem to anyone who took a peek at me. But, in reality, I read it over and over and over. He didn't stop until I could practically see that tanned hand writing those loopy letters onto the blank sheet of paper. Dipping the peacock quill into the bottle of ink. That ugly ass quill...I always told him that. But it was his favorite because I gave it to him for our first anniversary because I broke one of his. We both knew it was ugly and yet, he always uses it. But the letters it produced were heartbreaking. The single line written on the paper

"_**I'm sorry"**_

**X**

"_Please say something."_

"_What...am I supposed to say?"_

"_Anything...tell me you'll...we'll be alright."_

"_I've never enjoyed lying to you."_

**X**

A week after the first shock passed, the next wave came. Over something quite meaningless actually. I was just waking up from a nightmare and without noticing it, I started leaning towards the side of the bed I knew held the warmth to draw all the nightmares away.

But that side of the bed is empty.

It's been empty for some time now.

_**X**_

"_Don't cry, mi amor. Please don't cry."_

_His voiced cracked. I could hear it but I didn't want to look up. That would mean I'm accepting this._

"_How else am I supposed to act when my chest has been ripped open?"_

_He didn't say anything._

**X**

The tears started to fall before I would even think about stopping them. The tears that slipped back then felt the same as they did now. Hot and ever so happy to announce their presence on my face. First, they blurred my eyes so I didn't see what was in front of me but rather what I should've seen that day.

Those gentle hands that tried to hold mine, the tears that feel on my face that couldn't possibly be from my face, those green eyes, those _beautiful_ emeralds that looked so soulless and _tired._ Everything about him just screamed of how tired he was. Emotionally, mentally. Tired of fighting a war that he knew he'd never win and yet, he still tried. Tired so hard to fix what was broken beyond repair.

Maybe, if I had stopped fighting I wouldn't be on this bed alone. Clutching a pillow that held no warmth but instead, held a faint scent of cologne, sun and tomatoes. Maybe if one day I could say the words that I always wanted to say to him after every fight. The words I knew I could never say because my pride was just so _fucking_ huge that I couldn't stop fighting something so _good _and _pure._

**X**

"_I'm sorry."_

_**I'm sorry too**_

"_Please remember that I'll always love you"_

_**I love you too.**_

_**Please don't leave.**_

"_I'll go now, si?"_

_I watched the retreating back as it left the house, closing the door gently behind it._

_And I still had the words stuck in my mouth._

_All that escaped was a sob._

**Please don't leave me.**

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><p><strong>Let me know what you think. If you'd like more~<strong>

**reviews get me inspired, just saying**

**- Mia**


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